Prophecy I: Triune Godhead
by Madolan
Summary: A lost moment from the movie's history: Trinity's audience with the Oracle.


PROPHECY I: Triune Godhead 

Matrix fanfic by Madolan 

Author notes and disclaimer follow the story. 

* * * * * * * * * 

"Her prophecies are guides, Trinity, not chains." 

Trinity stared ahead, impassive, unresponsive. The city flowed outside their car in colored streaks, blurring as they sped toward their destination. Morpheus angled his head toward her. Behind his mirrored sunglasses his eyes were hidden, but she felt certain that he was measuring and judging her expression. He would take it into account as though she had spoken. Morpheus didn't always need words to conduct a conversation. 

"She is of the Matrix because she understands its flows better than any human alive. She reads the flows. She sees them. You might say that she takes the flow of information and applies it to your personal inclination," instructed Morpheus. "You're scared-" 

"I'm not," Trinity interrupted. 

"You're scared," Morpheus continued, "because you fear entrapment in a situation you didn't create for yourself. You needn't fear the Oracle. You aren't bound to her in any way, Trinity. But she will serve you and guide you if you permit her to." 

"Right," she answered. "Information to inclination. Serve and guide. Got it." Trin gnawed on her lower lip, unconvinced. She hadn't been this anxious since.... Well, frankly, since she'd unplugged from the Matrix. 

I don't fear her, Trinity rationalized. But there's so much at stake here. She risked another glance at Morpheus, whose imperturbable presence comforted her with its solid familiarity. If I'm not the One, I hope the Oracle foresees a steady career for me, because I don't know if I could serve aboard Morpheus's ship after disappointing him like that. 

In her heart, Trinity knew her own worth. She was a good fighter, swift and skilled in the computer-constructed world of the Matrix and in their hovercraft's onboard construct training sessions. She was a quick study- only two years out of the vats, and already she co-piloted the Nebuchadnezzar, Morpheus's ship. Before Awakening, back in her Matrix-bound life, she'd been a top hacker. Few other hackers could crack the IRS database. And to her knowledge, none of those few were women. She had a place and a purpose. That was irrefutable. But could she possibly be the One, as Morpheus hoped? She was good, but did she have it in her to be the uncontested mistress of the Matrix's tangled and dangerous world of code? 

She didn't have an answer. Presumably, the Oracle did. And so, despite her mistrust of the situation, she was on her way to the lauded seer to... what? Have her palm read? 

* * * * * * * * * 

The Oracle's base of operations, to Trinity's surprise, was a sprawling apartment complex in the city's less fashionable section. Morpheus led her to a certain point, but after reaching an unassuming apartment no different from its neighbors he smiled and left her to the ensuing confusion. 

A melange of urban domesticity went by like an impressionist painting. An apartment? Where's the temple? Trin thought doubtfully as a series of serene black women, marvelous in their dignity, anticipated her every move and led her from a crowded hallway to a comfortable sitting room and on to a darker passage. In so way, shape, or form did it resemble the mystical temples of thought and vision that she'd imagined. It did, however, have the prayerful aura of a holy place. Her current dignified guide stopped in the middle of a pleasant living room and motioned Trinity toward another door. With a benevolent smile, she withdrew noiselessly, and Trinity was left alone to face her fate. Steeling herself, she strode toward the doorway. 

Carved wooden banisters separated the living room from a dining room, throwing even shadows on a woman smoking a cigarette at the dining room's glass-top table. Her idea of the Oracle's physical manifestation was so at odds with the domestic scene before her that Trinity stopped short. Mild shock battled with her anxiety, necessitating a small battle for composure. The Oracle, as if sensing her discomfiture, looked up with a patient smile. She did not speak. 

Pausing in the doorway, Trinity idly ran a finger over the banisters. The wood was cool and smooth, sensations that Trinity's mind catalogued even as her subconscious dismissed them as manifestations of the Matrix. Nicotine plumes were drifting up toward the light fixture, and a gnat hurled itself through the smoke and against the bright fixture. A table at one end of the room held friendly-looking letters and a knifelike letter opener. Heavy curtains hid the windows from sight, but Trinity felt somewhat comforted by the potential escape route. It isn't that I don't trust the Oracle, she reasoned to herself. It's just that preparation for the unexpected is the wisest course of action in any unfamiliar setting. Morpheus may place implicit faith in the old woman sitting at the dining room and her apartment full of calmly prescient assistants, but Trinity had no reason yet to believe in divine prophecy. 

Her statuesque façade betrayed nothing of her inner debate. Her cool blue eyes remained locked on the Oracle's. If there was a hint of reverence in Trinity's expression- well, it was only natural for one whose life since Awakening had been filled with awed tales of the Oracle's uncanny foretelling. Still, Trinity felt a wave of frustration with herself and the situation. The older woman wasn't saying a word, just looking at her as if she were a favorite niece. Her previous doubts about augury twisted the reverence to annoyance, and to her surprise she burst out, "I don't believe in this. In you. Any of it." 

The Oracle lowered her cigarette slowly. Her manner held no disdain for Trinity's outburst. 

"Your existence isn't dependent upon my belief in you. So don't mind me if I just go on doing what I do- with or without your belief, child." 

Trinity briefly inclined her head. Fighting an involuntary swallow, she grabbed an empty chair and sat across the table from the Oracle. "That was rude of me. I'm sorry." She gestured, encompassing the low-key domestic setting. "But this isn't what I expected, and the lack of pomp doesn't seem to belong to the stories I've heard told about you." 

The Oracle laughed, deep and good-natured. "Trappings and regalia would suit me even less, honey, and folks have such particular ideas of things that I could never live up to their expectations. I'd rather surprise you than disappoint you." 

"That's shrewd of you. To disarm is to dominate." 

The Oracle laughed more loudly. Trinity blushed at the apparent rebuke. Seeing her color deepen, the older woman shook her cigarette in a warning manner. 

"We don't run a military operation here, child. I didn't bring you into my home to run tactics past you. Look here- you just sit back and relax, and we'll have a nice little chat. No talk of war, no combat training, no whatever-it-is that Morpheus makes you do on his time. Smoke?" 

She pushed a pack of cigarettes across the table. Trinity eyed them dubiously and shook her head. 

The Oracle sat back and lit her second smoke, carefully watching the younger woman. "No? Why not? You smoke, doncha?" 

Trinity gave a small smile. "No. No, I don't. I mean, I did," she amended hastily, "But that was before I unplugged." 

The Oracle's eyes glittered. "You're in the Matrix now, hon. No harm. Why not indulge, for old times' sake?" 

"Because it isn't me that tastes it. It's no longer my addiction. It was a taste and habit created by the Matrix, no more real than the gnat buzzing around your kitchen light." 

"And does that mean you can't enjoy the pleasure of it now?" 

Trinity's hand clenched into a fist and relaxed again. She shook her head slightly. "4D virtual reality plugged into my body with conduits like venomous snakes fed me that so-called pleasure, along with every other sensation I can name right now. Temperature, texture, sight, the dryness of my lips, the smell of your cigarettes- I reject the constructs of the Matrix. None of that is mine. " 

"What is yours?" 

"My anger!" Trinity's fist came down on the table with a bang that surprised her. The Oracle simply nodded and gestured with her cig that she was to continue. 

Trinity spread her hand flat on the table and examined it as she spoke. "The Matrix is a prison of sense and sensation that in reality deprives us of our own. It fed me a life it devised for me. It took my choices, my freedom. What is more galling than that total usurpation of basic rights? I'm one of the lucky ones," she said intently, her voice quieter now. "I have the chance to unplug and live my own reality, where every shred of existence is mine to choose and savor. And it is sweet." 

"Except the gruel," the older woman offered sympathetically. 

Trinity jerked back in her chair as though she'd been slapped. Wide-eyed, she stuttered, "How did you...?" 

The Oracle beamed, looking very pleased with herself. "That's what you were thinking, isn't it? The one exception to your 'life is sweet' theory is that damned gruel you have to eat for every blessed meal." 

"Single-cell protein with amino additives," Trinity mumbled automatically. Her mind was busily working out a justification. 

Waving impatiently, the Oracle took a long drag. Her expression was a contrite apology for interrupting. 

Trinity began more slowly this time. "You're defending the Matrix. I understand. There is, admittedly, more variation on the sensations we Awakened prize so highly. But when we've won the battle we'll have access to the creation of these delights. We may never be able to grow tobacco crops again," she wrinkled her nose at the cigarette smoke wafting in her face. "But the crops we grow will be infinitely more precious to us out of the Machines' control than any false sensations we can garner here." 

"You don't think small, do you?" 

"The rebellion must think on an epic scale." 

"You could have just told me you didn't want a cigarette." 

"The cigarette is a symbol of the Matrix's instant gratification. That pack of cigarettes is an effective symbol of the system's insidious hold on every aspect of our lives. Sense. Emotion. Body. If those are enslaved, can our souls ever be free?" 

Trinity's tirade wound down, and she watched the Oracle for some spark of affirmation. The prophetess looked grave and severe. With a flash of discomfort, Trinity speculated that perhaps her rebel propaganda, suffused with the fervor of youthful enthusiasm as it was, was too cliché to be heeded here among the cause's oldest supporter. Trinity resisted the urge to squirm in her seat like a child awaiting a report card. 

Brown eyes met blue eyes. "Emotion? You're rejecting that as a manipulation of the Matrix, too?" 

Feeling herself on safe ground, Trinity answered confidently. "Absolutely. Look at the emotions that are so world-specific. Ambition. Greed. Intolerance. Without the structure of this carefully-regulated world, there's no need for such destructive tendencies." 

The Oracle gave a low whistle, eyebrows raised. "Mighty convenient rejection. I'll bet you dimes to dollars you'll come across those same qualities in the real world before your time is done, girl, but for the sake of a pleasant argument between friends let's say you're right. Does that explain why you keep yourself wrapped up tight?" She smiled kindly at Trinity's expression. "You got yourself some tough armor there, girl. Don't let much through, not love, not greed. Just anger and fear." 

Her lips pursed in a thin line. Morpheus hadn't led her to a seer; he'd turned her over to a psychiatrist. "I'm dealing with things in my own way." 

"So you reject everything as a lie?" 

"Avarice, love, soap operas, disco- as far as I'm concerned, it's all a construction of the Matrix used to further force humanity into mental submission." 

"You don't believe in love?" The Oracle seemed genuinely concerned. 

Trinity shook her head. Her self-possession was restored. In the realm of Matrix truisms, she felt herself on sure footing. 

The Oracle shook her head regretfully. "A shame. You're gong to have a hell of a time coping when he finally come along and shows you how sweet love is." 

Stunned was hardly the word; she felt as though she'd just plunged over a precipice into something icy and unexpected. 

"Who?" she blurted out, nearly offended at the proposition that she would fall in love. 

"Oh, sweet child, nearly every path in your future leads toward a certain man, one who needs your guidance just as much as he'll need your love." 

Trinity snorted rudely. "This is a palm-reading session after all." 

The Oracle continued as if there had been no interruption. "It isn't easy for any woman to love the One, and you're going to knocked on your leather-clad butt by the prospect." She nodded sagely, adding a little wink at Trinity. "But you'll manage just fine." 

All her breath left her in a rush. Trinity sank into her seat with the air of one who accepts the inevitability of disaster when confronted with impossible odds. Her face smoothed into its accustomed marble serenity, her taut body relaxing. Inwardly, though, she struggled to accept emotions she thought she'd repressed. The offensive idea that she was destined, like some cheap romance heroine, to love rather than fight- the very idea was anathema to her. Her devotion to the war against the Machines filled her existence. She raged at the prospect of sacrificing her battle skills to play Juliet to some unknown Romeo. She'd gone through hell to get to this point. Was it useless, after all? 

Mingling with her anger was the sharp cut of disappointment. The One, she'd said... 

I am going to fall in love with the One. 

I am not the One. 

She didn't know if she said the last words aloud, but as she raised her eyes to the woman across the table, she was answered. 

"No, honey. You aren't the One." The words were kind, gentle. But at the same time they stung. 

Trinity wiped futilely at eyes suddenly and unexpectedly wet. She gestured hopelessly, encompassing the room, then clasped her hands and spoke in an even, measured tone. 

"I knew I couldn't hope to be the One. I didn't sense it in myself enough to be sure. But Morpheus was so excited to find me that his enthusiasm nearly convinced me." She looked up, smiling bravely. "And a conceited little part of me wanted to believe that I could play the part." 

To her surprise, the Oracle pushed herself from the table. Her body was strong, even angry, as she slid a chair next to Trinity and reseated herself. One dark hand rested on the younger woman's arm. 

The Oracle looked intently into Trinity's eyes. "It takes a lot more than enthusiasm to be the One, Trinity. But maybe it doesn't take more than a little belief." She nodded in satisfaction, as though this obscure aphorism divulged untold wisdom. Leaning closer, close enough for Trinity to feel the woman's breath on her cheek, she murmured, "There are aspects of the whole in all of us, and one whole can't be judged by a tiny part. You're not the One, but you aren't chopped liver, either. You have your part in the grand drama, just as he does. Lesser and greater roles are an aesthetic judgment I can't make, but I can tell you, he won't get there without you." 

Trin was dizzy. The proximity, the pronouncement, the generally unexpected atmosphere of the day- all were uniting to thoroughly unsettle her treasured dignity. 

"Cigarette?" 

Dazedly turning her head, she saw the Oracle smiling sweetly. In her outstretched hand was the soft pack of cigarettes. 

Trinity drew a shaky, deep breath. "Hell, yes," she said, and reached for the pack. 

* * * * * * * * * 

1/? 

THIS STORY IS NOT FINISHED. The Oracle has much more to relate to Trinity, but due to random roadblocks I've been away from the story for a while. If feedback is positive, I'll get cracking on the finale to the story. (I'm not above bribes!) 

YE ALMIGHTY DISCLAIMER: I envy the Brothers- Wachowski and Warner- for their ownership of the Matrix characters. I also fear them. So rest assured that I intend no copyright infringement, I am making no money off this, and I was only taking the characters out to play with good intentions. 

YE GLORIOUS FEEDBACK: As you wish. Amgreene@students.wisc.edu. Did I do a better Morpheus characterization this time? 

YE OLDE AUTHOR'S NOTES: I never intended this story to be so damned long. But I'm basically pleased with it, so it shall stay long. I took a few liberties here, though, that I'd like to address. First, the Oracle spends a lot more time and effort on Trinity here than she did with Neo in the movie. I conjecture that she had more leisure time back when Trin visited. When Neo shows up, the world is already spiraling into the final battle. Plus, did you see how full her waiting room was? She had appointments to get to, and rushed him out. Secondly, I personally believe that the Oracle can appear in whatever setting she judges to be the best for the visitor. She can be a priestess in a temple, or a grandmother at home, or a cashier at McDairy Barn if she wants. But I didn't feel I had the space to address that here. It's probably a moot point, anyway. Just thought you should know. 

This story is dedicated to the memory of the banisters between the kitchen and the living room in my childhood home in Missouri. I loved those banisters. 


End file.
